The Darkest Things

In dreams We dream the darkest things (which never turn out lies),
Of mine and yours and it, and always forever whys.
In dreams we held our heart in our hand,
And felt no pulse at all (at least in this foreign land).

We felt the old thing dead and tenderly threw it away,
And I forgot suddenly of the patch of earth in which it lay.
I asked you where it went to lie,
But never ever did you reply.

Then I felt in our chest the rusty time clock,
Which inside made reliable tick and tock,
And which upon ringing in the hour,
Screamed alarm of life but not of power.

And then we awoke and I walked away.
Away from dreams of darkest things,
Which never turn out lies.

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